Lucia's POV

The next morning, I was dragged out of sleep by a burst of noise from the courtyard below.

Laughter. Music. Shouts layered with celebration, the kind that carried across the Ferraro estate like a warning.

My head was still heavy when I forced myself upright. Before I could fully wake, a maid knocked sharply on my door, her voice carefully neutral, the way everyone's voice went neutral inside these walls.

"Miss Lucia, Don Bruno has brought entertainers into the courtyard. He asks that you come down to watch."

Entertainers.

I let out a breath that tasted faintly of irony.

In the Ferraro house, nothing was ever only entertainment. Every display was a statement, a thing arranged to be witnessed by the whole family, soldiers and capos and cousins alike. Bruno understood that better than anyone.

And he also knew I hated crowds. Hated noise. Hated being made into spectacle.

Those things had always belonged to Adriana.

I pushed myself out of bed, my injuries protesting beneath my skin. The faint ache along my ribs reminded me that I was still healing, that I had not yet recovered from the cellar, from the fear, from the betrayal.

"I won't—" I began.

But before the words left my mouth, the door opened again.

Adriana walked in first.

She wore a pale dress that flowed like mist, her hair loose over her shoulders. Bruno stood beside her, his arm around her waist with the unconscious familiarity of a man who no longer thought about where his hands went. They looked harmonious. Like a pair the family was meant to see together.

Adriana's smile bloomed the moment she spotted me.

"Lucia," she said brightly, crossing the room in quick, light steps. She grabbed my hand, her grip warm and intimate, as though we had never been enemies. "Come on, don't sulk. Bruno arranged all of this just for you."

Her fingers tightened slightly, nails pressing into my skin. With her free hand she reached up and smoothed a strand of hair that hadn't moved at all.

"If you don't come down," she added softly, "he'll be disappointed."

Bruno stood behind her, his gaze fixed on my face. There was something in his eyes, expectation, maybe even hope, as if he truly believed this could erase everything that had happened.

"Just take a look," he said. "Alright?"

They were perfectly aligned.

I felt like prey cornered by two people who had already decided the outcome.

With Adriana pulling me forward and Bruno watching closely, I had no room to refuse. I was escorted downstairs, step by step, my feet heavy, my chest tight.

The courtyard had been transformed.

A raised stage stood at its center, family members gathered around it in excited clusters, wine glasses catching the morning light. A fire-breather stood atop the platform, flames bursting from his mouth in violent arcs that lit the air in blazing orange and red.

The heat washed over me in suffocating waves.

Something in me stirred uneasily beneath my skin.

Adriana clung to Bruno's arm as though frightened, whispering into his ear. Bruno leaned down, listening, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, wiping sweat from her brow with practiced tenderness.

They looked like the promised couple of the family.

I stood off to the side.

Invisible.

Unnecessary.

Bruno's phone rang suddenly. He murmured something to Adriana and stepped away to answer it, his back turning to the stage, the way a man does when the call matters more than the room.

That was when the unease sharpened into something lethal.

I stared at the flames, every instinct screaming. Fire had always meant something in this house. Purification. Judgment. Destruction. Nothing was ever set alight here without meaning.

Then I felt it.

Adriana's gaze.

I turned.

The sweet smile she had worn moments ago was gone. In its place was a twisted, chilling expression that made my blood run cold.

Before I could step back, she lunged.

Her hand clamped around my arm with shocking strength, far stronger than she ever pretended to be. She shoved me forward, straight toward the rope line that separated the guests from the roaring fire.

"Ah—!"

I screamed as the heat slammed into my face, my skin burning instantly. I struggled, but her grip was merciless.

Then, in a single smooth motion, she released me.

And threw herself even closer to the flames.

"Bruno!" she screamed, voice tearing through the courtyard. "Help me!"

Chaos erupted.

Bruno spun around, his phone hitting the ground as he charged forward without hesitation. He broke through the cordon, scooped Adriana into his arms, and staggered back, shielding her body with his own.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Soldiers near the wall went rigid, hands drifting toward their jackets before they understood there was no shooter, only fire.

The moment Bruno steadied himself, his expression hardened. He turned toward me, eyes blazing with fury.

Before I could speak, pain exploded across my face.

His palm struck my cheek with brutal force.

"Why did you push her?" he roared. "Are you trying to kill her?!"

My ears rang. The world tilted.

"I didn't—" I tried to say.

He didn't listen.

Bruno shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward and fell, my shoulder grazing the edge of the spreading flames. Searing pain tore through me, ripping a cry from my throat.

That sound made him freeze.

For a fraction of a second, something like hesitation flickered in his eyes. His hand rose halfway to the signet ring on his finger, and stopped.

But then Adriana clutched his chest weakly.

"Bruno… Lucia looks worse than I do," she whispered. "Take her to be looked at first…"

The hesitation vanished.

Bruno looked at me with open disgust, then turned back to Adriana as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience in his house.

"Bring her too," he ordered his men coldly. "Get the dottore."

He carried Adriana away like she was made of glass.

I lay on the ground, firelight flickering above me. The pain in my shoulder deepened, spreading through my body. My vision blurred as the enforcers rushed toward me.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me—

Was the flames still burning.

Lucia’s POV

Because my body had been broken again and again, it never had the chance to properly heal. The reckoning came fast and merciless.

I burned with fever.

For three full days, I drifted in and out of consciousness, trapped between pain and dreams. My body lay helpless on the safe-house cot, but something deeper in me was dragged far away, into memories I had long tried to bury.

The dream was warm.

Too warm.

Golden light spilled everywhere, gentle and forgiving. In it, I was never abandoned.

My parents had never taken Adriana into the Family. In this world, there was only me, their blood-daughter, their pride, the future Signora of the Barsanti name. My mother smiled at me the way she used to when I was little, smoothing my hair and telling me I was precious. My father’s hand rested on my shoulder, steady and protective, as if no enemy in the world could ever touch me.

And Bruno…

Bruno was still the boy who used to wait outside my door every morning, patient, so he could walk me to school. He had always stayed close back then, guarding me on instinct long before either of us understood what an arranged alliance was meant to become.

In the dream, he made his promise beneath an old rose arbor, the kind kept for the vows that bound two Families. He said he would make me his, his Signora, his forever. Our union was sealed in the garden, moonlight pouring down as the old men of the Commission gave their blessing.

Later, we had a child.

A small, warm bundle with Bruno’s eyes and my quiet.

We were happy. Whole.

Then the light went out.

Without warning, the warmth shattered. The smiles on my parents’ faces twisted into something cold and unfamiliar. Bruno’s hand, once so warm, turned icy, slipping from mine as though I had never mattered.

They stood together at the edge of a cliff.

Laughing.

And then they pushed me.

I fell into endless darkness, something inside me howling in terror as the bond snapped, the pain ripping through me like claws tearing flesh.

I woke with a sharp gasp, my chest heaving violently.

My eyes flew open to an empty room.

White walls. A monitor beeping somewhere near my head. No familiar scent. No one keeping watch over me.

My body felt unbearably heavy, as though my bones had been filled with lead. Pain throbbed through my shoulder, deep and relentless. When I tried to sit up, my arm trembled violently, numb and useless.

Gritting my teeth, I tore the needle from the back of my hand and slid off the cot.

The floor felt cold beneath my bare feet.

As I stepped into the hallway, faint voices drifted toward me from the desk where the off-the-books physician’s people kept their vigil.

“Did you see the two Barsanti girls?”

“Of course. Their situations couldn’t be more different.”

“Adriana barely had a scratch on her, but the Don and the Signora sat with her day and night. And Bruno Ferraro never left her side.”

There was a pause.

“Meanwhile, Lucia was half-dead. Three days out cold. Not a single visitor.”

Their words were quiet, but painfully clear.

Each syllable cut into my chest like a blade.

My knees weakened, but I braced myself against the wall. Something in me stirred faintly, wounded but awake, as if reminding me not to collapse here.

Without hesitation, I walked to the desk, signed myself out against every objection, and left.

No one tried to stop me.

When I returned to the Barsanti estate, the silence was unnatural. The house that once smelled of Sunday dinner and shared blood felt hollow, empty of warmth.

I went straight to my room and began packing.

There wasn’t much.

Just one small suitcase.

That was everything I owned in this house.

After finishing, I went downstairs for water. Before I reached the sitting room, laughter drifted in from the front hall.

They were back.

My parents came in first, carefully steadying Adriana as she limped inside like a fragile porcelain doll. Bruno followed close behind, his eyes filled with unmistakable tenderness as he watched her every step.

They talked and laughed, their voices light, as if nothing had happened.

As if I hadn’t almost died.

When they saw me, Bruno froze. For a brief moment, something like heartache flickered in his eyes as he took in my pale face and the way I held myself upright by will alone.

But before he could speak, my mother crossed the floor toward me, her expression sharp and accusing.

“Lucia, what is wrong with you?” she snapped. “Why didn’t you send word you were discharging yourself? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

My father joined in at once. “Adriana already explained everything. She said she lost her footing and dragged you toward the flames by accident. Out of guilt, she pushed you clear to save you!”

“And you. Walking out of there alone like this. Making a scene again?”

Adriana lowered her head, looking weak and pitiful.

But I saw it.

The faint, triumphant curve of her lips. And then, so smooth I almost missed it, her hand rose to tuck back a strand of hair that had never fallen out of place.

She was looking at me the way a victor surveys the battlefield.

Something inside me finally broke.

I laughed. Soft at first. Then bitter.

“Worried about me?” I asked quietly. “So worried that in three days of my lying there half-dead, not one of you came to see me even once?”

My gaze shifted to Adriana, cold and unblinking.

“Lost your footing again?” I said flatly. “You really do come up with new stories quickly.”

For the first time, I didn’t lower my head.

I looked at them like strangers.

The room had gone very quiet. My fingers found the thin scar on my wrist and pressed it once, the only inheritance this family had ever given me.

“Watch your precious daughter carefully,” I warned, my voice calm but sharp. “If she lays a hand on me again, I won’t hold back. If I am unhappy, she won’t be happy either.”

Their faces twisted with shock and fury. I didn’t care.

I turned and walked upstairs without looking back.

This house. This name. These people.

They were no longer worth even a single heartbeat of my life.

Lucia’s POV

I had already said everything that needed to be said.

The suitcase was closed at my feet, my room stripped bare of anything that still carried a trace of me. I was ready to leave the Barsanti estate for good when the door suddenly slammed open with a violent crack.

Adriana stepped inside.

She wore sharp heels that clicked arrogantly against the marble, her posture straight and confident, as if this room already belonged to her. She carried herself the way the favored ones always did in this house, full of provocation and triumph. She looked at me the way a victor looks at prey that has already been cornered.

“Lucia,” she said slowly, her lips curling, “do you really think you’re special just because you’re the Don’s blood daughter?”

She took another step closer, eyes glittering.

“They love me now. Not you.”

Her words were deliberate, meant to sink in like a blade slid between ribs.

“I’ve known it from the start,” she continued, voice dripping with mockery. “You’re marrying that madman for me, aren’t you? The Don of the Lombardi Family. Isn’t the bride price just one billion?”

She laughed softly.

“After I stand beside Bruno as his Signora, do you know how much there’ll be? Far more than that. The Ferraro operation and the Barsanti operation already run the biggest pipelines in the territory. Once the two Families are joined, no one on the Commission will be able to touch us.”

She leaned close, her breath brushing my ear, her tone dropping into something vicious and intimate.

“And you?” she whispered. “You’re just trading one hell for another. The Lombardi Family is infamous. Brutal. Old blood. Once you walk into that estate, you might not survive three days.”

Her eyes shone with cruel delight.

“If you live, you get the money. If you die…” she shrugged lightly, “…it stays untouched.”

Something inside me snapped.

The rage I had been suppressing, all my own humiliation, finally burst free.

My hand rose before I even realized it.

Smack.

The sound echoed sharply through the room, like a gunshot. Adriana’s head snapped to the side as she staggered back, shock flashing across her face.

I smiled.

Not bitterly.

Coldly.

“Really?” I said, staring straight at her. “Then I hope you get exactly what you deserve.”

She covered her cheek, disbelief written all over her face. Her free hand drifted up to smooth a strand of hair that hadn’t moved at all, and her smile held a beat too long.

“You, you dare hit me?” she screamed. “Lucia, how dare you.”

I didn’t let her finish.

My hand came down again, harder than before.

This time, blood bloomed instantly at the corner of her mouth, a thin crimson line sliding down her pale chin.

At that exact moment, hurried footsteps thundered outside.

The door burst open.

Bruno stormed in.

The instant his eyes landed on the blood at Adriana’s lips, the temperature in the room dropped sharply. The men who had followed him in went still in the doorway, hands drifting toward their jackets, waiting for a word that hadn’t come yet.

“Lucia!” he roared. “Have you lost your mind? Who gave you the right to touch her?”

He rushed past me without a second glance, pulling Adriana into his arms as if she were something precious and fragile. His jaw worked silently as he wiped the blood from her lips, his fingers twisting the signet ring round and round.

Then, without warning.

Smack.

Pain exploded across my face.

My head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. Something in my chest folded in on itself and went quiet.

I swallowed hard and slowly lifted my head.

I wasn’t angry.

I smiled.

“Bruno,” I said quietly, “I hope you won’t regret this.”

My parents arrived right after, their footsteps quick, their expressions full of outrage.

But not for me.

“Lucia, you ungrateful wretch!” my father shouted. “How could you hurt Adriana like this? What has she ever done to you?”

Adriana clung tightly to Bruno, crying softly. Her voice trembled as she spoke, gentle and pitiful.

“Bruno… Mamma… Papà… please don’t scold Lucia anymore. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have upset her.”

She sniffed, then added, voice thick with false sorrow,

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I won’t trouble this family again. I just don’t want her to be unhappy because of me…”

Her performance was flawless.

Bruno’s expression darkened further, his rage boiling over.

He turned sharply toward the doorway.

Two enforcers in black appeared instantly.

“Take her out to the yard,” Bruno ordered coldly. “String her up from the old oak.”

He paused, then added, his words cutting into me like claws,

“Let the sun burn the poison out of her. The Ferraro Family does not keep women this vile.”

Before I could react, the enforcers seized my arms.

“Bruno! Let me go!” I struggled. “You can’t do this to me!”

No one listened.

They dragged me into the yard, my resistance meaningless against their strength. Rough rope bit into my ankles as they bound me tightly. With a hard yank, they hoisted me upside down from the tall, ancient oak, the tree this family had always used to make its lessons stick.

Blood rushed to my head, dizziness crashing over me in waves.

The midday sun was merciless.

It burned my skin, scorched my lungs, and made my vision swim. My heartbeat thundered painfully in my ears as my chest tightened, breath coming in ragged gasps.

Through the haze, I tilted my head and looked toward the living room window.

Inside, Bruno was carefully cleaning the cut at the corner of Adriana’s mouth. My parents sat beside her, speaking softly, their faces full of concern.

They looked like a perfect family.

Tears streamed from my eyes, falling uselessly to the ground below, drying the moment they touched the scorching earth.

I went very still, and my thumb found the thin scar on my wrist, the only inheritance this family had ever given me. I touched it once.

Just one day.

I only need to endure one day.

When I get free, every single one of them will pay for what they’ve done.